Be a Kid
by LaDanaid
Summary: House goes to the carnival to see something specific and finds himself wanting to be a kid more than usual.


**Title**: **Be a Kid**  
**Author**: LaDanaid/**sgr11**  
**Format & Word Count**: ficlet / word count2313  
**Rating**: T  
**Prompt**: Prompt #2 - Ferris Wheel  
**Warning**: none, no spoilers, this is pretty fluffy  
**Summary**: House goes to the carnival to see something specific and finds himself wanting to be a kid more than usual.  
**Author's Note** (if desired): This is written in a "you" point-of-view. I'm struggling with a bit of writer's block, I'm using these prompts as practice to force myself to write as much as can whenever I can. I wasn't quite sure where this piece was going, I don't know that I'm thrilled with the way it turned out...I would call it so-so, I probably need more time with it... But if I keep sitting on it, I will never move on to another prompt, so I'm handing in my 'assignment' so to speak. Of course, feedback is always wonderful and welcome!

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You have a list of reasons (lies) why you are here, standing in this grassy meadow among bells and whistles, flashing lights, bright moving steel, spinning and shooting games, cotton candy and Carnies. You would prefer to keep all the real reasons to yourself, so you best avoid Wilson, who always seems to be able to pry truth out of you, one way or another. (You lie.)

This is _his_, Wilson's, event after all. _'Let's raise money for the cancer kids.'_ Some big-wig donated the land to use, and another rented out the carnival. You're wondering who covered the sunshine and the insurance as you stumble past narrow and smoky booths full of hot oil for funnel cakes and shish-kabob and head toward bumper cars and unsafe-looking swinging and swooping rides, the nub of your cane gathering long damp grass. You are wary of small children running quickly by, not mindful of your 'third' leg.

Cuddy _highly_ encouraged the doctors of Princeton Plainsboro to donate their time to help and run some of the charity raising booths and to aid the sick kids; she pretty much threatened you for your required attendance, as she usually does for any hospital events. You offer to buy some tickets, play the 50/50 and maybe take some rides. You don't see yourself being serviceable to a donating suburban family or offering a helping hand to a _brave_ balding child with leukemia. It's not your thing.

You'll know your presence will be questioned by your staff, perhaps with a raise of an eyebrow or two. They should know better then to make any snide remarks at this point in their careers.

You are in a foreign land and a favorite haven simultaneously, undisciplined children running amok high on sugar, yet your favorite foods, candy and games trying to overtake your senses: you want to cave. You can't decide whether to cringe or to dive right in like a four year old into the air-regulated soft plushy "moon walk." If only you could have it to yourself. And you had taken more viocidin before your arrival. Ah, to be stoned and in the moon walk, now _that_ would be cool.

You opt for a snack on the ferris wheel first. Thankfully it's early and the lines aren't long yet for snacks. An icy lemonade in one hand, bag of hot zeppoles in the other, gripped around your cane, you make your way toward the colorful ferris wheel. You always enjoyed the carnival, though you often missed out on it as a child, moving around so much, not always being in the states. Perhaps part of the reason why you overindulge in such experiences now. You like to enjoy it privately.

You get to the front of the line. There is fat man with a red and white striped shirt accepting money and loading seats. You tell him you want to sit by yourself and that you want to go for two rides, you'll pay for it, of course. He eyes you up, and something in his dark tired eyes decides not to argue with you. You can tell he's about to quarrel with you about your food, when he just shrugs and walks away.

Seated in a blue chair, you stretch out your bad leg, put your cane along the seat and spread out your goodies. The wheel starts to rotate and you begin to take in the scene below. Sipping your cold lemonade, licking hot powdery dough off your fingers, you surprisingly see what you came here to see. You didn't expect to see it so early in the day: Cameron smiling and acting happy. (This was your secret. This is what you were hiding. This is why you are glad you have a chair to yourself, so you can stare out into crowds at something in particular and no one is asking you why.)

You didn't expect to see her so early in the day. And even if you had, you didn't expect her acting so carefree already. She always seems so closed up, almost aloof at times, not so quick to shed her skin to have some fun. You are dying to see her smile, _that_ would warm you and make you happy; it would make your day.

You watch her. She's sitting at a booth with two little girls, who are getting their faces painted with brightly colored flowers and butterflies. They're hair has been falling out and is thin, but still long. They seem to be trying to enjoy it while they still have it for it is curled and tied with ribbons. They're cute girls, about six or seven, smiling even through their sick paleness. You see them finish with their makeup and grab Cameron's hands, attempting to drag her down onto the stools that they just abandoned. You watch her shaking her head 'no,' her long dark curls trying to be defiant, but their sweet smiles are winning her over as they coerce her onto a stool. The makeup artist smiles at your young doctor, as you watch her take a deep breath. The colorful makeup is applied; hearts, stars, moons, and suns adorn her face from her jaw up along her cheek bone in bright colors. The two girls say something that make her laugh, and you wonder what it is that makes your immunologist laugh so freely, but you're thrilled to see her smile and laugh so exuberantly.

There is something about Allison Cameron, even with the silly bright paint on her face, that is always such a gift to you. A bright little puzzle that you never seem to figure out, but you are glad for this chance to see her laughing and doing it so freely. You wonder if it's because you're not around her. The ferris wheel's movement takes her out of your line of sight and you are lost in your thoughts.

The ring of your cell phone interrupts your spiral into confusion. It's Wilson looking for you. You tell him you're on the ferris wheel having a snack. He says he'll let Cuddy know you're here. (Why do you always have to check in with everyone?). Wilson tells you to come find him later (you doubt that you will). He leaves you alone to your thoughts and the movement of the machine through the sky again.

The ferris wheel stops near the bottom. People get off, people get on. Two little ribbon haired girls get on the chair in front of you.

"Hey, House!" A familiar voice wakes you out of your daze.

Cameron.

"Want company?"

Before you answer, you see the two little blond heads turn and giggle at you, you hear them whisper "Dr. Cameron" and "boy." Cameron is lifting the guard rail and tapping your leg to move over. You are dumbfounded for a moment, but you move without thinking.

You see the man in the red and white shirt. His eyes brighten at you, quickly locking you two in and putting the steel machine in motion before you have a chance to say "boo."

She's all cheery sunshine sitting next to you, unusual kid spirit filling her. It's almost unnerving you. (Probably because you were watching here).

"Dr. Cameron, what lovely face makeup you are wearing. Latest fashion? Will this be your newest makeup regiment come Monday?"

She laughs. It tickles your stomach. You don't hear her laugh like that often. Not often enough. At least not in the office.

"Those two girls," she points, "forced me to do it."

"I see," you start. "Those two fifty pound divas forced you? Hmm? What? Held you down with a gun?

She laughs again. You're riding high with this gentle ride.

"No," she smiles looking at them, "I couldn't resist their charms."

"Do you know them?"

"Hmm, yes," she says, "from volunteering... the reading program, you know?" (You have no idea what she's talking about, but you nod like you understand.)

"Sandy and Tara, they're both patients in pediatric oncology," she says grimly, "I'm giving their parents a break and taking them around for a while, they're twins. And they both have cancer."

You watch her stiffen a bit. You wish she hadn't. She was looking so carefree. So beautiful as the wind was catching her hair and blowing it in the breeze. You are at the top of the ferris wheel. It stops. You both watch the two girls, chatting and laughing away in the sun, seemingly not a care in the world.

You don't know what to say to Cameron today. You don't know how many times you have told her that she can't fix the problems of the world, yet she still continues to shoulder so much like she can. You and Wilson have both warned her about getting too close to patients, but she can't seem to help herself, she seems to want to save everyone (and she tries to, without realizing it). You look at her profile, stars and suns looking sad now.

She must sense your eyes, and quickly looks at you, and smiles. If you didn't know her better, you would swear she had tears sitting on her lashes.

"I got you something," she smiles, opening her purse and pulling out a small piece of white paper.

"What is it?"

"Is there any ice in that cup? Can I have some of those napkins?" She asks rapidly.

You hand them over to her, watching her take off the lid to the cup and wet the napkins. "Okay, close your eyes." She smiles mischievously.

You look at her with a pout.

"OH, c'mon, don't be a baby, just do it!"

You close your eyes, feel the chair swinging lightly in the wind.

Suddenly, your stomach is in your throat. Her fingers are rolling your t-shirt further up your arm. Her hand feels so nice against your skin, you didn't expect her touch. Then cold, you feel cold and wet. The cold wet napkin is pressed against your skin, you feel Cameron rubbing something on there.

"Cameron, what the hell are you doing?" You open your eyes.

She has your biceps in her hands, and she is rubbing something on it with her makeshift sponge. It dawns on you. Your are a big child. You should have known better. You roll your eyes. "Cameron, please tell me it's not a butterfly."

She laughs. She pulls away the wet napkin and quickly blots away the wetness with a dry one. There on your arm is a fake tattoo. A bright pink cotton candy cone with a banner above and below it _I love Cotton Candy_ written on it in a retro manner.

You laugh.

"Well, it was either that, or 'I love mom!'" She teases.

"What, no dragons? No eagles, no other manly looking tats there?" You laugh.

"Not from me," she giggles.

For some reason, you feel young again, like a teenager, except a happy one. You like seeing Cameron smiling before you, hair blowing. Your mind and body must be separated because you reach out and tuck an errant piece of hair behind her ear, not sure what made you do that. Your finger glides to the paint on her cheek bone, trailing down to her chin, you turn her head so you can inspect the other side. Her smile stiffens a bit from your unexpected touch. You are surprised by your actions as well.

"Nice work," you admire, but, really, you just love looking at her face.

She laughs. "I'll be sure to let the artist know of your approval."

"Please do."

And the teenager in you takes over again, as you lean in and quickly brush your lips against hers. You plant a soft chaste kiss on her mouth, your finger still on her chin. You pull away slowly, your foreheads close together, your eyes totally locked. Your throat is dry and tight, you're afraid to swallow.

"DOCTOR CAMERON AND STRANGER SITTING IN THE TREE. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MARRIAGE, THEN COMES..."

The two of you are jolted. You look up at and see two little girls on their knees grinning at you both madly. "OOOPS," you hear them say.

You know you haven't done this in years, but you actually blush. You smile (you don't know who you are anymore!), you want to hide behind Cameron's hair.

"Girls!" She yells. "Turn around and sit down!"

Her cheeks are flushed red and her eyes are angry and worried as she scolds the girls, who are swinging their chair with glee.

You stifle a laugh. "It's not funny." She says.

"It's funny."

The ferris wheel starts moving again. "It's not."

"Oh, but it is." Now you're really laughing.

"It's not." She's a little pissed, but smiling, her face a bit red, the girls are giggling, looking back at you two.

You're laughing.

"Stop it," she says, "you're such a child."

"Oh! I am," you smile. "And it feels really good, doesn't it?"

She turns and smiles at you. "Yes. Yes, it does."

You smile, the sun warming your face, or perhaps it's something else. Little wishes coming true, a glow gracing your face, like a child seeing shooting stars in the night sky for the first time, a real amazement. You have to return to the ground, but you like your moment here and you don't want it to end. But who knows? Maybe you can be a kid at the fair for the rest of the day and maybe Cameron will keep smiling, and maybe you'll be lucky enough to see it or be close enough to be part of it. That would be fair enough. Of course, you would prefer not to get off the ride.

END


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